A Tribute to a Doctor's Wife

I was your patient. I say that because you contributed, equally with your doctor hus­band, to my healing. It had been a long search for health. Over and again hope had been raised, only to be pushed down again into something approach­ing despair. I stood at the admitting desk that day because there was only one thing left to try—the sanitarium.

What doctor did I want? I didn't know his name. He was young, and new, and had a short name. The clerk told me there were two new young doctors with short names. This one had taken care of a friend's dog bite. A queer sort of recommendation, perhaps. But one who could take an interest in a dog bite might take an in­terest in my case. There was just a chance.

Saturday Night Surprise

Then began a series of surprises. I knew that it was a place where nurses prayed with the patients at bedtime. But I was hardly prepared to find a doctor so willing to spend time with his patients and their problems.

Then came a Saturday night surprise. Satur­day nights may be interesting times out of the hospital, but hardly in the hospital, with fam­ily and friends far distant. But suddenly my doctor appeared in the doorway. You were with him. And the children. "I want you to meet my wife," he said.

I was amazed! Certainly doctors and their families could find something more interesting to do on a Saturday night than visiting a pa­tient—one who wasn't dying, at that!

It was a long road back to health. Yet from the first office interview there had been a new and different hope—not only because I had a trusted doctor, but because I knew that he had placed my case in the hands of a Physician wiser than all. I know now that through all those days you were praying for me.

It was a long road—with some flowers and some dark ravines. I shall never forget the morning after my first good night's sleep. Your husband stopped by on his way to church just long enough to say, "I hear you had a good night's sleep." "Yes," I said, "isn't it wonder­ful!" His comment as he went on his way was simply, "Praise the Lord!" God had my case, and God was being given the credit for every inch of progress.

It wasn't all easy. I remember the night your husband stayed by till eleven o'clock. It was a health crisis, and a spiritual crisis. He wouldn't leave till it was settled. Since coming to this place I had realized certain new obligations in my relation to the Lord. We prayed, but the surrender was not made. Finally I said, "Would you pray with me again?" That was the turn­ing point.

It was about that time, possibly a little be­fore, that you wanted to visit me one afternoon. Your husband counseled you not to. I wasn't feeling well enough. But you arrived at my hospital room with, "My husband told me not to come. But I know women better than he does." And how glad I've always been for that bit of disobedience.

I must mention the back rubs you slipped in at every opportunity. There was something different about them. They had, of course, the professional touch. For you are a trained nurse. But through your fingers seemed to flow the love of the Master to whom I had now surrendered my life. Duty was never the com­pelling force in your service—it was always love. No wonder I let you give me those back rubs even when I didn't need them.

Standing out above other memories is the Sabbath afternoon I spent with you, when days were better. We had gone for a walk, looking for birds, and we came upon a cow that had fallen. We thought she had only been fright­ened and stumbled. We found that she was sick. You tried, both of you, to make her comfort­able. You walked a long distance to get her a drink. The owner was notified, but was not interested in the poor creature's plight. You were reluctant to leave.

At home again there was prayer at sunset. The little children prayed for the sick cow. Your husband prayed about the land where the birds will not fly away from us, and where there will not be any sick cows. You prayed. And then you rose from your knees with a look of determination as you went to the telephone. You were going to do something about the sick Cow.

I understood then why your husband is such a good doctor, why you are such a good nurse, and why you are such excellent parents. How could anyone so concerned about a helpless creature out in the field fail to be concerned with the needs of men and women?

If there should be some stars in my crown, I'm sure the angels would only smile their ap­proval if I thought some of them should be yours!